


woke up today, feeling the way i always do

by intertwiningwords



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwiningwords/pseuds/intertwiningwords
Summary: a look into an early morning in brooke and christine's apartment.





	woke up today, feeling the way i always do

Christine wakes up to her alarm blasting “Good Morning, Baltimore” and groans. If she ever plays Tracey in a production of Hairspray, she’ll be constantly reminded of waking up at seven in the morning for school or work or whatever, but at least the song is still just the right amount of pep to get her up and ready for the day.

Brooke, however, does not appreciate the joyful wake-up call, and whines, burrowing further under the covers, nothing but a few strands of blonde hair sticking out.

Christine shuts off the alarm, continuing to hum the tune beneath her breath as she gets out of bed, her mismatched socks touching down on the carpet.

Seymour, their tabby cat, meows at her, jumping down from his place at the foot of the bed, and rubs himself against her ankles.

“Good morning, fat baby,” she coos, bending down to stroke his head.

“Don’t bully him,” Brooke’s voice calls out, muffled by the blankets. “He’s the perfect size for hugging!”

Christine giggles, shaking her head fondly, and goes about her morning routine, using the bathroom and brushing her hair, before starting to make her and Brooke some tea in matching mugs, beautifully adorned with Cinderella and Belle, respectively.

Brooke emerges when she smells food cooking, her hair tousled and her yellow cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. “It’s freezing,” she whines.

“Maybe you should sleep wearing pants then,” Christine replies cheekily, taking a sip of her tea. “You can finish cooking, now that you’re up,” she adds with a grin.

Brooke groans, but complies, but not before she leans in to kiss Christine’s cheek.

Their apartment is tiny, but Brooke’s eye for brightly colored, cute things has paid off and made it feel like home. The kitchen is particularly bright, with fake little plants decorating every shelf and counter, and the refrigerator covered in magnets from god-knows-where she gets them. 

Christine leans against the counter, watching Brooke hum a familiar tune as she cooks, sliding across the tiled floor in her socks.

“What are you staring at?” Brooke asks, her eyebrows raised curiously.

Christine grins. “Nothing, just your hair in the moonlight,” she croons in a deep voice, easily assuming the role of Roger in Rent like she’s played him a million times before (Well, technically she has, if you count dramatic shower reenactments of One Song Glory into the shampoo bottle).  

Brooke rolls her eyes and giggles. “The sun just came out, there’s no moonlight.”

“You look familiar...Can you make it?” Christine continues, ignoring Brooke’s snark, setting down her mug and striking a silly pose, letting her bangs fall into her face in what she thinks is a messy rockstar style, but Brooke thinks she just looks adorably silly.

Brooke sighs, her lips quivering with the urge to laugh. “Just haven’t eaten much today, at least the room stopped spinning anyway!... What?”

“Nothing, your smile reminded me—”

“I always remind people of, who is she?”

“She died. Her name was April.”

The girls continue their duet until they burst into laughter, unable to spit out another line before their composure dissolves. In the midst of their joy, neither notices the food on the stovetop burning until the smell of smoke hits their noses.

“Shit,” Brooke says, turning the stove off quickly, fanning the smoke away with her other hand.

“Language,” Christine reprimands.

“Is that really your main concern right now?” Brooke asks with a small, fond shake of her head.

“I’m sorry,” Christine says, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist from behind. “I can Ubereats us something to eat since it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Brooke replies. “But I will still  _ totally _ take you up on that offer.”

She turns to kiss Christine, who has to get on her tiptoes, and they kiss until Seymour’s paws pad into the room, his piercing meow dragging them out of the moment.

They press their noses together, giggling, before Brooke goes to feed their loud and demanding cat, and Christine sets to work ordering them some well-deserved breakfast.

A simple morning was improved a thousand times over, just by being in one another’s company.

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

 


End file.
